


you will pray to be stronger (and I won't pray at all)

by walksbyherself



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walksbyherself/pseuds/walksbyherself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’ve read the after-action report, you know it was only a month, but it felt longer.  It felt like forever.</p><p>It felt like Brooklyn was something you dreamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you will pray to be stronger (and I won't pray at all)

How long were you at the facility?

How long were you a test subject?

You’ve read the after-action report, you know it was only a month, but it felt longer. It felt like forever.

It felt like Brooklyn was something you dreamed.

*

There were men in the cells are either side of you. Now there are not.

The first was taken to the lab one morning and never returned. The second--

You listened to him talking to himself, muttering and shrieking and laughing, until you couldn’t stand it. 

“Could you keep it down, buddy?” you said.

There was silence at last, then a sound like a gong, and something softer beneath that; the impact of a skull against bars. Soon you were the one crying out, for guards, for the guy to stop. 

A heavier sound. A body hitting the floor.

The guards dragged him away, a blood streak trailing behind them down the hall. 

There were men in the cells on either side of you. Now there are not.

*

There are needles in your arm, a set of four stuck into your left bicep. They connect to tubes that trail along the floor to a machine out of your line of sight. Someone flips a switch.

You scream until your throat is raw, spit blood at the doctor who comes to tighten down the straps. Later, you try to drink water from the cup they’ve left in your cell. It’s like swallowing razor blades; you cough up more blood along with the water, then curl up on the pallet and try to sleep.

The next day, when someone asks how you’re feeling, you tell them “Fuck you.” You feel no pain.

*

Near the end of your captivity, they strap you into a chair. They give you more injections. They show you cards. They ask you what you see. The cards are blank.

“This a joke?” you say. For once, nobody hits you for mouthing off.

Last of all, they drag a man into the room. He’s skinny, short, and his hair might be blonde under all the dirt. He looks a little like Steve.

You know it’s not Steve--Steve is safe at home in Brooklyn--but you’re tired and aching and this guy looks like Steve, so you smile a little. 

“Do you know this man?” the technician asks. Zola is standing in the corner, watching.

You don’t say anything.

“Do you know this man?” the technician repeats.

You shake your head.

The guard draws his sidearm and shoots the prisoner in the head. Blood spatter hits your cheek.

There’s a moment when you can’t remember what his face really looked like--the prisoner’s, Steve’s. 

The room tilts. There’s a corpse on the floor, a scrawny blonde with no face. Who was he?

You don’t remember breaking out of the restraints, breaking the arm of the technician when he tried to stop you. You remember kneeling on the floor, blood and brains soaking into your pants as you haul the body into your lap. You cannot describe the sound you make.

Through it all, Zola keeps still, keeps silent, keeps smiling.

*

There’s a file with your name on it.

It’s not your service record, not your debrief from the HYDRA facility. You don’t know what it is.

You had a physical after the rescue mission, all the prisoners did. But yours took longer and the medic took notes. The notes disappeared into the file, and then the file disappeared.

Maybe you will disappear next.

*

A hundred miles outside Prague, you capture a scientist.

Steve and Carter are sifting through a trove of documents, the rest of the Commandos are wrangling other prisoners. The laboratory burns behind you. This is your chance.

You pull him up by his lapels, lips curled back from your teeth. “What do you know about the test subjects? Zola’s experiments?”

The man’s eyes widen. “You were one of them. You are the one who lived.” 

“What was he _doing_ to us?”

“Soldiers.” The scientist sounds dreamy, almost high, and you’d worry more if you hadn’t already checked him for a cyanide capsule. “Better soldiers, for the coming winter.”

“What did he do to _me_?” 

The man smiles up into your face. “Magnificent. He would be so proud.”

Your punch breaks his jaw.

There’s a sound, or an absence of sound, and you turn. Steve is watching you, glancing from the groaning scientists to your bloody knuckles to your face and back.

“Tried to get away,” you say. “Had to put him down.” 

“When did you learn German?” Steve asks.

*

You field strip and reassemble a HYDRA rifle. Your hands move swift and sure. You have never seen one before. You think you have never seen one before.

Steve has always believed in you; he always said you were smarter than the swing of your fists or your next snappy remark. If any of this is suspicious to him, he does not let it show.

Colonel Phillips is watching you. Howard Stark is watching you. Agent Carter is watching you.

You wonder what is in that file.

*

SSR headquarters is a buzz of activity at nearly all hours, but it’s staffed by people and even in wartime, they need to sleep. There are windows of opportunity when most of the personnel are out of the way.

You only intend to take a quick look around. Open a few drawers, turn a few pages, then call it a night. You aren’t sure exactly when that plan changed, only that you have pulled out an entire file drawer and are reaching into the back to see if anything fell out, if there is a hidden compartment. 

They are hiding something from you, you know it, and it’s been keeping you awake at night, but you’re going to figure this out. You’re going to know what they did to you and then--

Someone clears their throat.

You look up from a heap of paper. Agent Carter is standing in the doorway, one hand on the frame. The light is behind her and you can’t read her face.

“Sergeant,” she says.

“I--” You don’t finish the sentence. There’s nothing you can say that doesn’t make you sound insane.

“You’re going to help me clean this up, Sergeant,” Carter says. “And then I won’t need to say anything about this to Captain Rogers. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

You are leaving in the morning. There’s actionable intel on Zola’s train; you’re ready and more than ready for this chance. You have checked your gear over twice and are checking it for the third time when Agent Carter knocks on your door.

“Sergeant.”

Carter holds out a folder. The folder. Your hand shakes when you take it from her.

“I trust this is what you were looking for.”

“ _Ma’am_.” The word is torn out of you from someplace unhealed. “Do I--”

“That copy is yours,” she says. She puts a hand on your shoulder, gives it a squeeze with blood red nails. “Just don’t stay up too late reading. We have an early day tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You read the folder through three times, then burn it. You will remember what it said.

*

That night, you dream of what is hiding underneath.

You reach up to your face, touch your cheek. You can feel your skin slide away like a mask. It doesn’t hurt.

You turn toward the mirror and before you can see what you are, you wake up.

*

The door separates you from Steve. It doesn’t seem like much of a problem until you’re out of bullets.

You hunker down behind the crates and you breathe. (If you walked out into fire, how many bullets would it take to stop you? How fast could you close the distance? Can you kill him with your bare hands?)

A moment later, the door opens and Steve tosses you a gun, and your plan doesn’t matter. 

The other soldier, the one with the energy weapons, follows Steve in from the other train car and then nothing matters at all.

You are strong, so strong. You are everything they made you. A perfect soldier.

You pick up the shield.

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this one right after CA:TWS and...obviously it's taken me a while to finish. I was bound and determined to push this one out of the nest before Civil War is upon us, though, so here we go. 
> 
> The scene with the execution of not!Steve owes its existence pretty much entirely to _Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy_.
> 
> The title comes from "We All Go the Same" by Radical Face.


End file.
